Rebuilding
by Ellie12
Summary: The morning after the Endor celebration in ROTJ, Leia is still struggling to cope with the revelation about Vader.


She winced as she opened her eyes, and quickly closed them again with a soft groan. The warm pillow under her cheek shifted, and she scrunched her eyes closed even tighter, recalling why she felt so awful. Yesterday was a death-blow to the Empire, the monster beheaded-she should be feeling elated in their victory, in the victory she'd helped win for her father.

_Father_.

That was a large part of why she was feeling so awful, had felt even worse when she'd fallen asleep. She'd drunk too much at the celebrations in the Ewok village, trying to fortify herself for the conversation she needed to have with Han about her family. He'd practically had to carry her back to the Falcon, and she'd broken down in tears while trying to speak, all her political skill at maintaining a detached facade crumbling as she cried herself to sleep in his arms.

It was not, she was sure, what he'd thought they were coming back to the Falcon for.

His arms tightened around her as she shifted against him, wiggling her nose and blinking and trying to force herself into alert wakefulness. He was still here. He had heard her tale and witnessed her breakdown, and was still right here. She took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of him, of the Falcon, and tried to ground herself.

"How're you feeling?" His voice was a low rumble, barely above a whisper.

There were a lot of ways she could answer that, but she went with the safe, mostly physical answer. "A little...muzzy. My arm's sore."

One hand trailed up her arm where it slung across him, probing tenderly at the edges of the bandage covering the blaster wound. She tried to hide her wince, but he saw it, eased the pressure, fingers sweeping lightly over her skin instead.

"You want some water?"

She nodded, then sat up a bit as he twisted away from her, pulling a cup out of the alcove by the bed. Looking down at herself, she was surprised to find the rough dress she'd been given by the Ewoks still on her. Had he really just taken them to bed as they were? As she took the water from him, she saw he was without his shirt, but still in his bloodstripes; his boots and socks and her shoes were tossed haphazardly on the cabin floor.

After drinking the entire glass, she handed it back to him, not quite making eye contact.

"Leia." She finally looked up, saw nothing but concern in his face. "Y'okay?"

She could only shrug, not quite trusting her voice yet, not quite having an answer to his query. He seemed to understand, merely put his arms around her and pulled her close, pulled them both down into the bed again in a tangle of limbs and emotions.

Tears no longer felt imminent, but she still felt raw, broken open, too many feelings too close to the surface, unprotected. She wanted to stay here for a little while, let her shell rebuild.

As if he could read her thoughts, his still-soft voice broke the silence. "Think they're mostly giving us today to rest. There's a command meeting we gotta get up to sometime tonight."

She only nodded. Tonight, she would be back to Princess Leia by tonight, could take charge of the routing and rebuilding process by then. His hands were warm on her back, soothing as he traced her spine, combed through her hair. This felt intimate and familiar, and she could feel the protective layers of nacre building back up around her.

After a time, he shifted a bit under her, twisting away. Momentarily wary, she pulled back and watched him; seeing him snag his comm, she settled back down beside him.

"It's still real early," he said, tossing it back down to the floor. "You can go back to sleep."

"Mmm. What about you?" One of her hands slid up to squeeze his shoulder, hoping he'd stay close.

"I'm definitely going back to sleep." He kissed the top of her head. "Unless you want me to make you something to eat? I didn't see you eat a thing last night."

She tilted her head up to kiss him, gentle and unhurried, then barely shook her head. "Not right now."

His arms went back around her, and he returned her kiss with one of his own, just as easy, undemanding. "Get a couple more hours sleep. Then I got something special for breakfast."

Before she could respond, he was already half-asleep again, so she merely hummed against the warm security of his embrace and drifted back to sleep.

When she woke again, she had the bunk to herself. A few hours ago, that might have left her feeling abandoned; but the blankets had been tucked around her, her own clothes were folded at the foot of the bunk, and her comm was resting next to the pillow. Now, she felt as if he'd recognized her need for a time alone to recenter herself.

As she took a deep breath and rolled onto her back, she noticed a smell in the air being cycled through the ship that was altogether apart from the usual fuel and grease—something cooking. She vaguely remembered his promise of something special for breakfast. Stretching, she contemplated whether or not the folded clothes were an invitation to dress and join him. Just as she was deciding to pull on her clothes and make her way to the galley, the door slid open to reveal Han, tray in hand, still barefoot and shirtless.

When he saw her half-sitting in the bunk, a grin spread across his face. "Mornin."

She tried to return the brilliant smile he graced her with, but it ended up somewhere closer to a grimace.

Carefully setting down the laden tray on the floor by the bunk, he settled in beside her once more, an arm sweeping around her. Leia allowed him to pull her close, curled against him, her head tucked into the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him.

"Kaffe will help. I already had a cup."

She nodded, shifted away from him as he twisted and brought the whole tray up into bed. As she assessed the contents, he handed her a steaming mug. It felt as warm and steadying as he did, and though she knew it was a trick of her mind, she felt fortified after just a few sips.

"Has there been any word from Command about the meeting?"

He shook his head and pointed at the tray, laden with some kind of fresh fruit, a deep burgundy preserve, and pancakes. "Food first. Rebellion later."

With a nod, she reached for a fork, but couldn't help saying, "I don't think we're a rebellion anymore. I think we may be the government now."

"Well, you can't govern on an empty stomach either." He picked up a piece of the pinkish mystery fruit and offered it to her, his fingers grazing her lips as she took it in her mouth. At the look in his eyes, she had to look away, back down into the safety of her kaffe.

"What?" He sounded confused, but still picked up the other fork and dug into the pile of pancakes, dumping the preserves all over them. Two pieces were devoured before he offered her a bite, which she took cautiously, meeting his eye again only briefly.

"How can you still look at me like that?"

His brow wrinkled in apparent confusion. "Like what?"

"As if you'd like to devour me like a piece of that pancake."

"'Cause I would. Especially with a little of these preserves. But I'm trying to figure out how you'd feel about that first. So I'm looking at you." That sweet, crooked smirk on his face didn't help, and she felt herself tentatively returning his smile.

"Even after everything last night?" Her voice only wavered a little, and she didn't think she sounded too girlish as she spoke.

"There's times that call for getting near blind drunk, and I think what you told me about is one of those times."

She looked down at the mug in front of her, where her knuckles were as white as the ceramic. "I still don't know how I feel about it."

"Well it's a pretty crazy bit of news to get hit with."

"But you're not freaked out. Why aren't you freaked out?"

"Last night one of us had to be not freaked out, and you were, so I sorta defaulted to not."

The time it took to swallow a long sip off kaffe gave her time to parse that response. "But you are 'freaked out' then?"

He merely chewed a bite of pancake and shrugged. "Nah, not really."

"How?" She wanted to know his secret, _needed_ to know how he could seem so nonchalant about such a horrifying revelation.

"'Cause it doesn't matter."

She wanted to stab him with her fork for such a flippant sounding response, but she could see from his face that there was more to it. Han was not loquacious, and was struggling to find the words. She merely raised a brow and waited for him to elaborate, stabbing a piece of pancake instead.

"So I don't know who my father was—he could have been the Emperor himself for all I know. But my ma, she was a good person, someone who loved me, as much as she could. It's not so different, is it? Your—he might have been evil, but your mother, whoever she was, made sure you ended up somewhere you were taken care of, raised right."

"Made sure I didn't turn out evil like him," she whispered.

"Sweetheart." He laid his fork down on the tray and caught her downcast chin with his finger, forcing her gaze up to meet his. "Is that what you're so worried about?"

Unable to trust her voice, all she could do was nod, sharply, and close her eyes, trying to hold back the tears that threatened again.

"Are you worried Luke's gonna go evil?" Crossing his arms, he leaned back against the bulkhead.

Her eyes shot open in surprise. "Of course not. He resisted the Emperor's attempts to turn him to the Dark side and-"

"And Vader restraining you while they forced you to watch Alderaan being destroyed wasn't a temptation to go evil? I've seen beings make some pretty damned evil choices, as a result of a whole lot less. You've proved you're better than that."

It was impossible to keep the awe from her face as she leaned in to kiss him, fiercely. "I love you," she gasped when they finally drew apart.

"Love you." He kissed her again, quickly. "And I know you." Another kiss, this one lingering just a bit longer. "And that's why I'm not freaked out, or worried."

Their lips met again, deepening into something with the potential for more as lips parted and tongues touched, teased, twined. But still she pulled away after a few minutes, squeezing his hand where it had tightened on her hip and pulled her closer. Despite his reassurance, despite how safe it felt in his arms, she still felt too unlike herself to lose herself in him just yet.

Yet he seemed to understand, releasing her hip and handing her fork back to her with a kiss to her forehead. In the midst of all these years of horror and chaos, how had she gotten so lucky to find this unlikely man?

"Thank you." She hoped he understood, knew it was for everything he was.

"You're welcome. Now eat up before this gets cold. They're gross cold." He speared a preserve-soggy center piece with his fork and smiled gently at her as he offered it to her.

They ate in companionable silence for a moment before she broke it. "Where did you find wineberry preserves?"

Clucking his tongue, he waved a pancake-laden fork at her. "Classified supply secret. If you find out where all the good stuff comes from, how will I be able to surprise you with it?"

She merely shook her head and smiled, and for the first time in days that felt right and easy. Sighing happily as she took another bite, the smile finally reached her eyes as she savored the taste. It had been years since she'd tasted wineberry, and had feared them lost with Alderaan. But he'd found them for her.

He was always finding what she needed.

The lather rinsed away in the hot spray of the shower, and it felt like it was washing away not just the grime of yesterday's battle but everything that had made her feel stressed and dirty in the past two days. Strong hands kneading her upper back helped too, helping dissolve her worries and easing the last of her lingering tension. Her head dropped forward, chin almost touching her chest, as he worked her shoulders one last time.

"You feelin' better?"

She nodded, and he reached past her to turn off the water. "Real water always makes a difference."

He switched on the sonic dryers though-without them, it took ages for her hair to dry, and he knew it. Languidly, she reached up and shook out her hair, letting all of it dry. She blinked, and then opened her eyes, staring at his now-dry, bare chest. Stepping forward, she planted a kiss on the center of his sternum, then stepped back.

The smile on his face remained even as he stepped away, offering her his hand. "C'mon. We'll be late."

"We're already late."

"I fly fast. We'll be okay."

She followed him, shaking her head and laughing. "When did you turn responsible?"

"When they made me a General. Thought maybe I should try living up to the title."

They rummaged through drawers and compartments in the cabin, occasionally passing a garment between them, turning up undergarments and uniform pieces.

"Are you trying to impress someone with that title?" she teased, taking her jacket from him.

"Maybe. Is it working?" He winked as he pulled on his vest.

"Depends on whether or not you get me to the Command meeting on time."

"We got half an hour. That's plenty of time."

She reached up to her hair, coming her fingers through the long tresses. "Can you get us going while I take care of this? It might take a minute."

Kissing her quickly, he straightened her collar under the edge of her jacket. "Finish getting your armor back on, Sweetheart, and I'll see you in the cockpit. I can get us up there in 15 minutes."

It was amazing, really, his ability to see her so clearly when no one else seemed to. Smiling as she watched him go, she then turned to the small mirror on the wall. Her hair had become routine, and with practiced ease she separated and coiled, braided and looped. The process took less time than one might expect, but she'd primarily kept to one style over the last few years, and she didn't have to think about it much.

Han had been right, she thought, as she pinned the braids in place. It did feel like her last bit of armor going into place, as she became Princess Leia once again, strong fearless leader, ready to step into the Command meeting and begin a more complicated process. Now, rather than fighting against something, the more complex task of rebuilding would begin, and she would be at the forefront of it.

She took one last look in the mirror after putting in the final pin. Taking a deep breath, her hand slid across the access panel for the hatch, and she headed to the cockpit, ready for the Command meeting.

It was time to get to work.


End file.
